"Guilliman, you are the son I trust and cherish most."
"No father wishes for his child to suffer. There were things I did, a millennium ago, out of sheer necessity—actions I now regret. But you understand me, don't you?"
The Emperor spoke.
Guilliman was visibly moved. He slid down against the wall, burying his face in his arms, looking like a lost, tormented child.
"Everything we fought for... has failed, dissolved into nothingness."
"The misery and ignorance that cling to humanity like a festering wound have only been perpetuated by the oppressive rule upheld in your name. The Imperial Truth has been replaced by the Ecclesiarchy's dogma. Even now, atrocities committed in your name unfold across the stars as I speak."
"When I awoke to the Empire's state, I masked my rage, concealed my disgust. None—neither the Eldar nor my siblings—could fathom the depth of my hatred for the corruption and decay of this Empire. An Empire that might be better off destroyed."
"So why did you resurrect me? What is it you still want me to do for you?"
Guilliman's voice grew increasingly strained, every word laden with anguish.
The Emperor listened in silence. There were no admonishments, no scorn, nor any attempt at solace. Yet, seeing Guilliman's pain stirred something deep within him.
"You are the embodiment of humanity's will," Guilliman muttered, lowering his hands and meeting the Emperor's gaze. "This is your human nature. You haven't said it outright, but I know you want me to stop complaining and get on with my duties."
"No," the Emperor shook his head. "I want you to weep openly, to cry out all your sorrows—and then, I would offer you comforting words. But when you reach Terra and face the me on the Golden Throne, you'd best hold your tongue. Otherwise, I might give you a rather firm slap."
The thought of Terra weighed heavily on Guilliman. What had become of the Emperor on the Throne? Could his fragmented will truly have descended into tyranny, into the mindset of a conqueror and enslaver?
"Father, come to Terra with me," Guilliman proposed. "At least this part of you still retains its reason."
The Emperor smiled faintly. "And then? When some girl inevitably proclaims herself Emperor incarnate, the Ecclesiarchy and Inquisition would join forces to burn her at the stake. Perhaps not."
Guilliman considered this and couldn't help but agree. He thought of the Ecclesiarchs and Inquisitors among the High Lords, certain they would barely tolerate his arrival at Terra without accusing him of being an imposter.
"Swallow your grievances, stand tall. Face the trials ahead as the Lord of Ultramar's Five Hundred Worlds, as the Thirteenth Primarch."
"At least you have allies and tools like the Dimensional Engine. You wield more resources than I ever did in my time."
With a weary sigh, Guilliman rose to his feet.
"Father, how long have you observed the Tyron Sector? What are your thoughts on it?" Guilliman asked, aware of the dangers of their alliance with the Star God. The safety of the Dimensional Engine could not be taken for granted.
As a leader, he had to prepare for every eventuality, even the faint chance of a war between Tyron and the Imperium.
The Emperor remained silent for a long moment before replying, "The ruler of this sector is indeed a Star God, but he is unique. He wields divine power yet sees himself as staunchly human."
"Like you?" Guilliman inquired.
The Emperor gave him a wry look before continuing.
"My only regret about the Lord of Tyron is that he appeared too late. If he had existed ten millennia ago, I might have been a soldier in the Tyron Imperial Army, a machine operator on one of their vast construction sites. Who willingly steps forward to face this damned universe unless absolutely necessary?"
Hearing this, Guilliman felt that this manifestation of the Emperor's humanity was indeed pure, albeit tinged with a certain escapism.
The Emperor of ten millennia past, with his unified will, would have confronted the brutal universe without hesitation. If the Tyron Sector had been a human realm back then, it might have merely added another head to the Imperial Aquila.
At least the Tyron Sector was more reliable than the Adeptus Mechanicus. With the Stellar Engines, they wouldn't crumble into infighting at the first sign of an Ork moon barreling toward them.
"Face what lies ahead, but don't push yourself too hard," the Emperor advised.
"How could I not? I may have to spend centuries, sleepless, untangling this mess."
"What else can I say besides offering some comfort and urging you onward? Should I demand you never sleep again because the problems won't fix themselves otherwise?"
Guilliman wanted to continue speaking with this fragment of the Emperor's will, but the mortal girl hosting it seemed at her limit. Her eyes flickered with an otherworldly glow that began to fade, and time resumed its normal flow.
As everything returned to normal, Vanessa saw Guilliman standing before her.
She couldn't believe her eyes. Her breathing quickened, and she struggled to speak, her words caught in her throat.
"Don't get too excited," Guilliman said, gently patting her shoulder. "I am but the Thirteenth Primarch standing before you."
Vanessa couldn't help but be overwhelmed. She had seen the return of the Primarchs in her visions and now stood face to face with one, the child of the god she served.
Guilliman, not one to favor fanaticism, offered his thanks to Anreida for bringing him to the school before turning away.
...
Guilliman lingered in the Tyron Sector for three more days, using a small ship to travel across its expanse.
He helped settlers on a remote colony drive off a massive beast.
He attended a scientific symposium and aided scholars in solving complex sociological dilemmas.
He even rescued an elderly woman's pet voidcat that had drifted into the void.
He joined bounty hunters on a hive world in an expedition to explore ancient ruins.
But happy moments are always fleeting. Three days later, Guilliman knew it was time to leave the Tyron Sector and return to his burdens.
The *Friendship* disengaged from its orbital dock, maneuvering beside the *Seeker King* under the watchful eyes of its crew.
Guilliman and Qin Mo exchanged farewells on the bridge of the *Seeker King*.
"For some reason, I feel a heavy weight on my heart," Guilliman confessed, gripping Qin Mo's hand.
"Like a student dreading the end of vacation and the return to school?" Qin Mo joked.
"You and I must be kindred spirits; you've perfectly captured what I struggled to articulate."
"But Primarch, you cannot stay in Tyron forever. Your Ultramar and the Imperium await you."
"My Imperium... and its endless wreckage." Guilliman sighed. "Call me Guilliman, that's enough."
Though reluctant to leave, Guilliman knew Qin Mo was right. He had responsibilities—his Five Hundred Worlds and the Imperium itself.
"The Dimensional Engine has already activated a beacon five hundred light-years away," Qin Mo said, glancing at the fourth planet outside the bridge, now eerily vacant. "Sail towards it; it will save you some time."
Guilliman nodded, signaling to Cawl to proceed.
"Dimensional Engine charging," a voice announced over the intercom.
As the broadcast ended, Qin Mo released Guilliman's hand, retreating with his Custodians. Protective barriers shimmered around them as they prepared for the ship's departure.
Even as they were teleported off the vessel, Guilliman's gaze lingered on the spot where Qin Mo had stood.